| Short Story ahoy! |
[Aug. 8th, 2005|07:13 pm] |
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An auburn haired woman took a small scoop of earth out of a heap and packed it around a small rose bush with a tender pat. She rocked back on her heels and took off her floppy straw hat and began to fan herself in the 85 degree heat. The smell of the earth she was sculpting combined with the fragrance of her new flowers to create a scent that heaven couldn’t match. She took in a deep breath and put the hat back on her head; it was a perfect day to be gardening.
She stood up and stretched the tight muscles in her legs. She had just been squatting for the last ten or so minutes planting the small rose bush and even though gardening was her favorite hobby, it still was tiring. After the feeling had flowed back into her lower calves she walked over to the other side of her yard and retrieved another bag of enriched soil to use in her planting endeavors.
Behind the screen door her three year old son looked outside with wonder in his eyes. He had watched his mother play in the dirt for almost a half an hour and he wanted to know why. It was hot out and he was too short to reach the small lever to open the door, so all he could do was gaze out at the outside world and hope that his mother would see him.
She turned back to gaze at a couple of petunias that she planned to plant next. A small flash of red caught her eye and she looked over to see her son standing behind the screen door in a red t-shirt looking at her with a puzzled expression on his face. Wondering what was wrong she stood up and walked over to the screen door, opening it with a loud squeak. “Is something wrong, Sam?” she asked softly.
Sam shook his head. He looked up at his mother and asked in a very serious voice, “Mommy, why are you playing in the dirt?”
His mother laughed loud and hard and in doing so she only managed to increase her son’s puzzlement. “Sam, I’m not playing in the dirt,” she explained, “I’m gardening.”
“Gardening?” he repeated, unsure of the new word.
“I’m planting flowers and veggies for you to eat,” she said touching the tip of her son’s nose and making him giggle.
“Oh!” he said in a knowing whisper, as if they just shared a big secret. “Can I help?” he asked fervently.
She nodded, “If you promise to do what I tell you, you can help.”
Sam held out his pinky, “I pinky swear,” he said in the promising tone of a three year old.
His mother took his pink in her own dirty glove and shook it. “All right, I’ll show you how to plant petunias.”
Sam followed his mother out of the house hearing the screen door give a decisive slam behind them. He scanned the yard and saw several large purple flowers in a few black boxes sway gently warm in the summer breeze. “Are those the petunias?” he asked, pointing at them.
His mother followed where he was pointing to with her eyes, “Yes, those are the petunias.”
“They’re pretty,” he said softly as they advanced on the large flowers.
“Yes, they are,” his mother agreed while leaving her son’s side to pick up the first box of petunias. She walked over to a large bare patch of earth right up against the fence. “We’re going to plant them here,” she said while pointing at the strip of land.
Sam ran over to where his mother was pointing as fast as his small three year old legs could take him. He squatted down next to his mom and looked up at her expectantly. She took up a small, handheld garden spade and took a several scoops out of the ground. “What are you doing?” Sam asked curiously.
“I’m making a hole to put the flower in,” she explained. “But I need to be careful about how deep I make it.”
“Why?” Sam asked.
“Because, if it was too deep then the flower can’t be seen, but if it’s too shallow the roots will be exposed to the sun and the flower will die,” she explained.
“Oh,” Sam said knowingly.
She smiled at her son and worked a petunia out of its resting place carefully. She got it out and pointed at the small network of white strands that laced through the dirt clump it was in. “These are the roots; they’re how the petunia will get the water.”
Sam looked at them with a scrutinizing eye. “They’re so small,” he said finally.
“Yes, I know,” his mother replied. “But they still keep the plant alive,” she said while placing the petunia into the hole she had made earlier.
“Now what?” Sam asked.
“Now we put dirt around it so it will stay,” his mother said.
“Can I do that?” he asked excitedly.
“Sure,” his mother replied and pulled the bag of dirt she was carrying earlier sideways a little bit. “Hold out your hands,” she instructed.
Sam quickly held out his hands in a cupped position to his mom. She took a scoop of the nutrient rich soil out of the bag and placed some in his hands. “Now, pack it in the cracks around the flower, but be gentle,” she said.
Sam giggled as he felt the dirt in his hands. He looked at the flower and let the small bit of dirt fall into the cracks. His mom gave him another scoop and he repeated the process once again. After there was a sizeable mound around the petunia his mother nodded approvingly, “That was a very good job. Now press down on it gently so it will stay.” Sam giggled again and pushed down the soft earth around the flower.
“Now scoot over,” his mom told him and Sam stood up and moved a little to the left to another bit of bare earth. She followed and squatted down beside him.
When she went to go pick up her spade Sam piped up, “Can I try?”
She looked at him and his eager face and nodded while handing him the small gardening tool. “Sure,” she said.
He gasped with delight and took the spade from his mom. “Not too deep, but not too shallow,” he said as if repeating the instructions on how to diffuse a bomb.
His mom hid a small smile behind her dirty garden glove as her son started to scoop up dirt with as much surgical precision as a child his age could muster. “Very good,” she cooed and she was rewarded with a giant grin. She worked another petunia out of its small hole and handed it to Sam. “Be careful,” she said softly.
Sam nodded and felt the small threadlike roots in his hands. He slowly and carefully lowered it into the hole that he had worked so hard to carve out of the ground. Then he held out his hands expectantly for the dirt to pack around the flower. His mother happily obliged and started to scoop small amounts of the soil into his hands while he carefully placed it around the flower. Then with a final pat he set the dirt into place.
Like his mother not long before him, he then chose that time to rock back on his heels and wipe his forehead. “You did a very good job, sweetie,” his mom complimented him.
“Thanks, mommy,” he said with a grin.
Together they moved along the bare patch decorating it with bursts of purple. After about twenty minutes they were done and Sam felt very pleased with himself. “Did I do a good job, mommy?” he asked.
His mom nodded and stood up to stretch her legs. “You did a very good job.”
“Can we do this tomorrow?” he asked excitedly.
“Tomorrow we can plant seeds,” she said in a very low voice to excite Sam.
“Seeds?” he gasped, happily excited with the prospect of the mystery item.
His mother nodded, “Yes, seeds. They’re very small, but they’re what make flowers and other plants.”
“Cool,” Sam breathed.
“But right now, we need to get you cleaned up and ready for dinner,” she said with a finalizing tone in her voice.
“Awwww,” Sam groaned.
“Come on,” his mom said and held out her hand.
Grudgingly Sam took it and together they went into the house, leaving behind the petunias to sway in the breeze and bask in the warm glow of the setting sun.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's fluffy, it's cute, it's for Megan. Here you go :3 |
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